Then it was my birthday and two kinds of ice cream.
Then it was Valentine’s Day, and my beloved bought me ANOTHER Costco-size chocolate-covered macadamia nuts (repackaged in a heart-shaped box we keep just for that purpose). Truly the candy I hate to love. Let’s just say they won’t be troubling me much longer.
It’s gotten RIDICULOUS. My clothes are fitting badly, my head is swimming, and I’m sleeping HORRIBLY. And since I still can’t do yoga, and am in the middle of a huge work project, I’ve pretty much stopped doing all forms of exercise (except, strangely, squats) and feel like my entire life is therefore spinning out of control.
I just ran across this fascinating article about a scientist who posited in the ’70s that sugar was really, really bad for us—a claim that essentially ended his career. Best line from the story:
One of the problems with the anti-sugar message—then and now—is how depressing it is. The substance is so much part of our culture, that to be told buying children an ice cream may be tantamount to poisoning them, is most unwelcome.No kidding, right? Welcome to MY world (technically I guess it’s his world). But do I think it’s massively hypocritical to still consider myself a sort of anti-sugar evangelist while at the same time struggling with a nasty flare-up of my own “issue”? NO. The addictiveness of the stuff goes right to the heart of why it’s such a problem.
But I need to face the fact (YET AGAIN) that I am not cut out for moderation. WHY CAN’T I BE CUT OUT FOR MODERATION??